The Point of No Return
by Mikki13
Summary: Chuck and Sarah reach the point of no return. An alternate take on the infamous shower scene.


**A/N: **Written for live journal's "Story Lottery" challenge, the prompt was "soap bubble." Now what else was I supposed to come up with? ;-)

_~*~_

_Poisoned. He'd been poisoned. Poisoned._

The water beats relentlessly upon his chest, its frigid stream causing his skin to break into goosebumps, no doubt helped along by the beautiful blonde spy currently lathering his arms with soap. But Chuck is oblivious to all of this. The only thing he can think of is the poison he's just inhaled, the poison that spewed forth from the cylinder inside the puzzle box. Thoughts of all possible reactions litter his mind, playing havoc with his mind and causing his muscles to tense even despite the gradually warming stream of liquid dousing his reddening skin.

So when Sarah runs her hands along his arms, and when she threads her fingers though his hair, and even when she pushes his head onto her slippery chest, nothing registers but the mind-numbing feeling of panic coursing through his gut.

_What does poison do? Does it kill you slowly or within the blink of an eye? Does it affect the central nerve system? Does it cause paralysis? Does it . . ._

But his unyielding train of thoughts comes to an abrupt stop when Sarah turns her back to him, handing him the bar of soap so that he can lather her glistening skin. It is only then, with his breath catching in his throat and a mostly naked spy instructing him to soap down her back, that Chuck's thoughts shift and he comes back to the present with a jolt. In the space of a few seconds, he realizes exactly how close he's standing to Sarah Walker, and exactly how little clothing they each have on.

As if of its own accord, his hand slowly rises to caress Sarah's back, his finger instinctively finding the strap of her bra. And when he finally touches her, when his trembling hand finally connects with her soft skin, a whole other stream of thoughts suddenly takes dominance in his mind.

Sarah Walker . . . beautiful, talented, intelligent Sarah Walker . . . the woman he fell in love with nearly a year before . . . is standing before him, her body wet and gleaming, mostly naked save for a skimpy pair of lingerie. And she's asking him to soap down her back.

His heart hammering in his chest, his mind goes nearly blank as he automatically begins running the bar of soap along Sarah's slick skin, down her back, along her spine. Every nerve ending in his body roars to life, the pulse in his fingertips quickening with each new brush of her skin. And when she shivers as his hand travels along the top hem of her panties, a breathy gasp emanating from her throat, he can't help the inadvertent whisper that escapes his lips. "Sarah . . ."

The moment the word is spoken, the blonde turns in the shower, a half-guarded expression radiating from her bright blue eyes. But underneath the guard, underneath the mask, lies countless emotions that cause Chuck's heart to pound. Hurt. Fear. Desire. And a deep underlying affection, so guarded yet so powerful that it takes his breath away.

_A robot. A robot that can turn off her emotions._

A pang reverberates through Chuck's chest as he remembers the words he spoke to her not two nights previously, and he instinctively bites his lower lip as a sense of guilt washes over him. He should stop this. He needs to stop this. She deserves so much better than anything he's given her over the past few days. And he has to admit that there's someone else who deserves better, too.

But when she blinks and raises her hand to trace his slick jaw, when her lips part and she locks onto his gaze, the same emotions intensifying within her eyes, when she takes a step toward him so that their bodies are mere millimeters apart, the only thing he can think of is the gorgeous woman standing before him, so close that he swears he can hear her heart beat.

"Sarah, I'm so –" he begins, the robot speech still fresh in his mind. But before he can finish the sentence, her mouth has crashed into his, her supple lips pressing feverishly against his own. _I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._

The words echo through his mind in time with her kisses, richocheting within his head even as electric chills race down his spine. And while a part of him can't believe this is happening, and even though he knows that Casey could be back at any minute, he can't help but deepen the kiss when she relaxes in his arms and begins threading her fingers through his curls.

Even so, in the back of his mind, he still feels a sense of guilt. He still knows that this is not the right thing to do; at least, not right now. Not when Sarah deserves better, and not when there's another woman who expects his loyalty. But then he remembers Bryce Larkin, and he thinks about the five years he spent in an endless abyss – an abyss he emerged from only because of the woman standing before him. The woman who has claimed his heart, even when all the confusion in their relationship has caused him to deny her ownership.

_I'm so sorry._

So when Sarah pushes her tongue into his mouth, and when her fingers begin tracing a heated pattern down his back to the hem of his sleek briefs, he can't help but continue. And as he does so, he realizes: he's never loved any woman as much as he loves Sarah Walker.

~*~

Sarah's breath is emerging in ragged gasps, red hot sparks traversing rapidly down her spine as she savors every inch of Chuck's mouth. Her mind feels numb, disconnected, almost as if she's watching herself kissing Chuck from a point ten feet above. But the feelings that are coursing through her body tell her that this is entirely real.

_I'm making out with my asset. I'm making out with Chuck._

This is risky. Dangerous. Casey could come storming through the door at any minute, an entire team of CIA agents in his wake. General Beckman could find out about this in an instant, and reassign her faster than she could say good-bye. Her entire relationship with Chuck – their entire cover, shaky as it is already – could be complicated beyond repair, destroyed to the point of no return. She needs to stop. She needs to push him away and tell him that they can't do this, that this was a mistake. She needs to remind him that this is all a lie, a con. A cover.

Whatever she has to do, whatever might happen next, she has to put an end to what's happening now.

But when he breaks away from her mouth and begins tracing hot kisses along her jaw, when his hands stroke the smooth, damp skin of her arms and move to the small of her back, when he presses his wet, slick body against her shivering frame, the hardness in his briefs grazing against her heated sex, she can't help but allow a soft moan to escape her lips as she falls against the shower wall and succumbs to his touch.

"Chuck," she breathes. Her leg snakes around his back and her head falls backward as he brushes frenzied kisses along her tender throat. "God, Chuck."

All thoughts of stopping this encounter quickly rush from her mind as the jealous, lonely ache that had pierced her chest only a few moments before suddenly switches to a deep longing for the man currently wrapped within her arms. And in that moment, she realizes that whatever happens next, she's going to enjoy what's happening now.

Reaching behind herself, she unhooks her bra and quickly shrugs herself from its confines. Chuck's eyes widen as the fabric falls to the shower floor, a low gasp escaping his parted mouth. But when he glances up and looks into her eyes, seeing nothing but encouragement and deep desire, he gulps and licks his lips. And after another moment's hesitation, he slowly drops his head to her chest and ever so delicately captures a sensitive nipple within his mouth.

For three days, she's gradually realized just how much she cares about Chuck. But now that he's standing so close, now that his mouth is moving sensuously over her slick chest, now that his skin is brushing tantalizingly against her own, she realizes just how far gone she really is. Again, she feels a fleeting yet overwhelming desire to stop this, to end their journey down the dangerous road they're suddenly traveling. She's his handler, he's her asset, and there are a thousand reasons why she shouldn't be doing this. Why _they_ shouldn't be doing this. Why she needs to put an end to this now.

The problem is, when his fingers feather over the sensitive flesh of her stomach, when his mouth continues its frenzied dance along her wet skin, and when the longing and affection within her chest grow to a feverish level, she can't seem to think of any of the reasons why they should stop.

So when Chuck pushes still closer to her shivering frame, she moans throatily and leans against the shower wall for support, the inner flesh of her thighs rubbing heatedly against his rock hard groin. And when his tongue sweeps the tip of her nipple, his hand rising to tenderly rub her other breast, she takes the opportunity to place two fingers into his briefs and slip them down his legs. The new sensation causes him to stop his ministrations and stare at her in wonder.

"Sarah," he whispers, "are you . . . are you sure?"

She finds that she cannot answer him. At the moment, she's not even sure she can talk at all. In response, she simply holds his gaze and slips off her panties, the emotion within her eyes more powerful than any she's ever allowed him to see. The sight leaves him speechless, his lips parting as tiny gasps emanate from his mouth. And when she curls her hand around his swollen shaft and guides it into her slick, tender core, a strangled groan reverberates from his throat.

Her legs are curled around his back, his hands supporting her even as his arms grow shaky from their efforts. Guttural sounds of want fill the steamy bathroom as the warm shower water rains down upon their trembling bodies. Their eyes are locked in a heated, affectionate embrace, their rhythmic movements becoming increasingly frantic and intense. Her name continuously slips from his lips like a prayer as static sparks build within her belly and zip down to her groin, coalescing within her heated center. Just as their rhythm builds into a frenzied crescendo, her walls convulse around him and he pushes deep within her, crying her name just as she screams his own.

When their breathing finally returns to normal and the only sounds come from the water still pounding from the shower head, Sarah slips her legs down his back and places her feet back onto the wet shower floor. Her smoky blue eyes are still secured upon Chuck's smoldering brown, her chest is still rising up and down while her pulse gradually finds its normal cadence, and in a split second she realizes what all of this means.

This isn't just a cover. Somewhere along the line, she forgot her protocol and stepped out of her professional role. Somewhere along the line, she stopped pretending and her feelings became all too real. And no matter how dangerous it might be, and regardless of whether she's ready to accept it, she knows that she can no longer deny the truth.

As complicated as it is, this thing is real. As difficult as it will inevitably be, there will be no turning back. Because somewhere along the line, she fell in love with Chuck Bartowski. And if the look in his eyes is any indication, somehow, someway, he loves her, too.

Together, they've reached the point of no return.


End file.
